Heart Lines
by onceuponasupernaturalholmes
Summary: AU Season 1 in which Hook was not with Cora when the curse struck and therefore brought to Storybrooke along with all the others. How his fate is tangled with his greatest enemy and with the woman who may have always been meant to be his true love (I suck at summaries)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own Once Upon a Time, just writing for fun here.

Rating: T for now, may jump to M later on

Summary: What if Hook hadn't been protected by Cora when the curse hit? What if it had taken him to Storybrooke? What if all he knew of the Crocodile was that he had this unexplainable hatred towards Mr. Gold? An alternative tale of season one.

Characters: Hook, Mr. Gold, Emma Swan, Mary Margaret, Regina

Pairing: Golden Hook, eventual Captain Swan, eventual Rumbelle (the first pairing will be explained, trust me)

Emma was fuming as she stormed across the street towards the Pawn Shop, the burnt rope clutched in her hand. She could still smell the awful fumes the thing had been doused with. It was not fear that gripped her when she realized Mr. Gold had gone far enough to actually set fire to a building in order to paint Emma as a hero to win her the election for sheriff. Talk about overboard. She was going to set him straight, tell him she wouldn't stand for this kind of thing and to back off. He may have had a stigma in the town, considered more dangerous than even Regina, but Emma wasn't impressed. She knew he had power, to be sure, but she wasn't going to let him push her around, that wasn't really how Emma worked.

She was reaching for the door handle when the door swung inward, nearly making her stumble forward as the door before her suddenly wasn't there. Someone came out of the store so quickly he almost crashed into her. Emma had a brief look at a handsome face; blue eyes, short black hair perfectly mussed, facial hair and most alarming, a split lip. He was wearing a black peacoat, his hands jammed into the pockets and dark jeans. He didn't offer any sort of apology, just twisted slightly to avoid ramming her with his shoulder and kept on going. Emma watched him for a moment before she shook herself mentally and tightened her grip on the rope, entering the shop. Mr. Gold looked impeccable as always, if not a little more triumphant and smug than usual.

"I seem to be having many visitors in my shop today," he commented as though taking note of the weather.

Emma stopped in front of his desk and placed the rope on it. "Really?" she asked. "You're willing to go this far? Because I am not that kind of person."

"What are you going to do about it, Miss Swan?"

"Exposing you is on my mind."

"Ah, think about what you'd be exposing and who'd you be disappointing before you do that. You needed something big to win this election."

She frowned at him. "I'm not playing this game," she repeated. There was a moment of tense silence, broken only when Mr. Gold smiled. She sighed. He had a point though, if she came clean on what happened she might lose this election and she needed to win, for Henry's sake. She remembered the young man who'd come out of the shop, split lip and all. "Who was that in here before me? I haven't seen him before."

"That was Mr. McGurn," Mr. Gold replied and Emma canted her head to the side slightly. Was that a level of anger in the pawn keeper's voice? She had yet to hear anything but arrogance in that honey-sweet voice because Mr. Gold always seemed a step ahead, deadly confident in the way of things and for good reason.

"There a reason he walked out of here bleeding?" Emma asked. Mr. Gold frowned at her and she shrugged. "Hey, if I'm going to be the sheriff I need to start looking into these things."

"Peter McGurn and I have a…complicated history."

"You're evading."

"Because it's a personal matter, Miss Swan."

"Not when fists are being thrown."

"I did not _punch_ Mr. McGurn, I hit him with this," here he lifted his cane slightly. "Because he decided to get in my personal space."

"Any reason he might decide to do that?"

Mr. Gold shrugged. "You can ask him yourself, Miss Swan," he replied but she knew he had the answer. Mr. Gold would not be the type to let a grudge escape him, if this Peter guy was getting in his face about something he knew the exact reason and Emma was well aware of that. Judging by the look on the man's face, he knew she was aware of it and was opting not to share any more information. She turned and headed back towards the door, pausing as she opened it. "Still not going along with the whole arson ploy," she grumbled, slamming the door behind her.

"You know a guy named Peter McGurn?" Emma asked.

She was leaning against the refrigerator, sipping on some brandy. Mary Margaret was folding laundry on her bed. She looked up at the question. "Peter? Yeah, I know him. Well…sort of, I know who he is. He's kind of a cad," she wrinkled her nose as if recalling an unpleasant memory. "Why? Did you meet him today?"

"More like I almost got ran over by him today," Emma sighed. "I went to Gold's shop while he was coming out. Apparently he and Gold had an argument or something; it ended with Gold cracking him in the mouth with his cane."

Mary Margaret raised a hand to her own mouth and gasped. Emma couldn't help but wonder how someone stayed that innocent. The woman reminded her of a fairy tale princess…or maybe that was just Henry's influence interfering with her imagination. She was Snow White in his mind. Emma stared at her expectantly and the other woman shrugged. "I don't know what happened between Gold and McGurn all I know is Peter seems to be the sole person in this town capable of angering Mr. Gold. I mean, you know how Mr. Gold is, he's arrogant and kind of scary but he's polite…granted I think it's all so he gets what he wants, but he doesn't even bother with that façade when he's dealing with Peter."

Emma lofted a brow. "Wonder what he did to piss Gold off so much."

Mary Margaret smiled wanly and shrugged. "You and the rest of Storybrooke," she replied.

Clearly not going to learn anything else on the matter, Emma pushed off the refrigerator and drained the rest of the brandy, setting the glass down in the sink with the promise to wash it in the morning. Mary Margaret wished her a good night and good luck in the debate that was taking place the following day. Emma found she couldn't answer her. She was torn. On the one hand, if the town viewed her as the hero willing to help Regina, it was not secret the women didn't get along, they would surely vote for her knowing she would discriminate when it came to helping others. On the other, she was doing this to prove to Henry that good could win without dirty tricks but Gold's plan was definitely the lowest of the low and how could she prove anything if she went along with it? Was it better to win and come clean later on? Or risk losing and being the person Henry needed her to be?

She ended up with the truth. She knew it cost her the position, it had to, she lied to her friends and worse of all to Henry. So when Regina and Sydney came to Granny's and she was presented the badge, she was not feigning surprise. She could see the pleasure Regina gained from learning Emma had slighted Mr. Gold, sure that the new sheriff would have her hands full fending off her 'superb enemy' but Emma had never let Gold intimidate her, she wasn't going to stop now. But she should have seen it was all part of his act, when he came to her at the office the following afternoon and said as much, she knew he wasn't lying. He wanted her to challenge him in front of the people, wanted the people of Storybrooke to know she wasn't afraid of him and it had indeed given her the victory she craved. Despite this, she was proud of what she did, she was proud that she hadn't lied that good won through honest deeds.

"Congratulations, Sheriff Swan."

Emma jumped at the new voice and turned around so quickly it was a miracle she didn't fall over. Peter McGurn was standing there with a smirk on his face. She had nearly forgotten about him in everything that had been going on. "Thanks…" she replied, a bit off put.

"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Peter McGurn."

She was pretty sure the smile he flashed her way had broken plenty of hearts in the past. If she wasn't so guarded against that sort of thing she might have melted. "Emma Swan. I don't see you around much."

"I stick to the docks; I work in that part of town. I was, however, in the neighborhood and decided I might as well get to know our lovely new sheriff."

"Your lovely new sheriff has a crap load of work to do," Emma pointed out.

Peter grinned. "Fighting the good fight? Well, I should leave you to it though I may just have to cause some trouble in the future so we can meet again, love."

He winked and turned to go and that's when Emma noticed it. Peter's left hand was stiff at his side, seemingly carved of wood. A glove covered it, but Emma was sure…

Peter McGurn was missing his left hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Note to the readers: Wow, I'm thrilled at all the feedback everyone, thank you so much! To answer the question about Hook's Storybrooke name…Well, it is not a coincidence x] There was also a question about Jefferson asked to which I say...you bet his story is being involved, if the show won't give us a scene of the Hatter and Hook together than I'll do my best to make it as epic as it ought to be haha

* * *

Emma was seeing a lot more of Peter than she had in all the time she'd spent in Storybrooke. Mary Margaret assured her it was not all that unusual to see him around town and pointed out innocently that maybe Emma was just keeping her eye out specifically for the man. The look Emma shot her way kept her roommate from ever suggesting such a thing again. No, of course Emma was looking for him, why would she?

She pinned the sheriff's badge to its proper place, the weight of it still threw her off, as if the extra burden of responsibility had become tangible in the new badge. She sighed and grabbed her coat, leaving the apartment and heading over to Granny's. She ordered a coffee and slid into a booth, rubbing her hands together. Winter was fast approaching; the air had a bite to it that hadn't been there even a few weeks ago. She frowned; Emma tried to avoid thinking about a few weeks ago because she inevitably thought about Graham. Sighing into her mug of steaming coffee and closing her eyes as she inhaled the familiar scent, she did not hear someone joining her at her booth until that someone nudged her foot with his own. Her eyes snapped open, fingers gripping the mug more tightly ready to throw it at the intruder before she relaxed when she realized it was Peter.

"Good morning, love."

She frowned at the term of endearment. "Good morning yourself," she replied. "You know, the diner is pretty open right about now."

"Oh I'm well aware."

"So you just want to irritate me?"

Peter laughed. "You are a piece of work, is it so wrong of me to be friendly?"

"I just find it strange that you did not bother to be friendly whatsoever when I first came here. In fact," and she paused to smirk. "You only showed interest since I made sheriff."

He leaned in closer; his blue eyes boring into hers and honestly, the look he was giving her now out to be outlawed. It wasn't fair for a man to be this…sensual with the simplest of gestures and looks. What the hell was she even thinking? Emma forced her mind to focus. Obviously the lack of caffeine was the problem here and nothing else.

"Maybe I like the idea of a girl with some authority," he all but purred. "And one with handcuffs readily available at all times."

Emma's jaw actually dropped a bit and she could feel heat rushing to her face. She regained her composure as quickly possible, narrowing her eyes at him. "Got a few kinks to work out, McGurn?"

He shrugged. "Just like a little fun, is that a crime, Sheriff? Bad enough to merit some time in Storybrooke's fine jail?" He laughed and Emma assumed it must have been by her expression; a mixture of amusement, bewilderment and exasperation.

"It's too early for this," she complained, ignoring him for a moment to drink more of her coffee.

"I jest of course. I didn't see you when you first came in because I was working; I often go out on the boat and help with shipments. Storybrooke's port is too small for the larger vessels to get close. There, are you less offended by my absence now?"

"I wasn't _offended_, I just thought it was strange and now you've explained yourself and it's not strange and we're moving past it," Emma stated. Her phone rang and she glanced at who was calling and frowned. "Ugh, Madam Mayor calls."

"You have a good day, Emma," Peter said.

She wasn't aware of when they had reached the first-name basis and she rolled her eyes. "Have a good day yourself, Peter," she replied.

* * *

He waited until she left the diner before he got up himself. He caught Ruby's eye as he was leaving and dropped her a wink, earning a sultry little grin from the pretty girl before he stepped outside. He took a deep breath and headed back in the direction of the Pawn Shop. Normally he'd be fuming as his steps took him closer and closer to the shop, but today he was indifferent, at least in the matter of Mr. Gold. No, today his mind was on the sheriff. Peter wasn't sure what it was about Emma Swan that had him so curious and though he hadn't had proper time to get to know her, he would like to. Naturally her beauty drew him to her, she was a new mark to be certain and he was going to try and get a bull's eye as far as he was concerned, it was why he initially approached her when he got back from his work at the harbor but now he was finding her more amusing. Emma had a no-nonsense attitude that was refreshing, she was a challenge and it had been too long since Peter had a challenge. She made him feel like a kid again, bringing out his more devious antics and it had been so long since he'd felt this light-hearted, in fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling this light-hearted.

Peter let the door to the pawn shop slam shut behind him and was met with Gold's annoyed glare. "If you break the bell you buy me a new one," he chastised.

"Right, right," Peter replied, uninterested. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and dug out the item his benefactor needed. It was a simple thing, really and Peter wasn't sure why he wanted a small order of sheep wool but it hadn't been available in Storybrooke and so the order had been placed and it was shipped. He tossed the spool of wool to Mr. Gold who caught it deftly and set it down carefully on the desk.

There was a simple reason Peter hated Gold. The man was responsible for his wife's death…he just couldn't piece it together, the how of it anyway. All he knew was that he did something and that was why Wendy died. As much as he ranted and screamed at Mr. Gold and no matter what complaints he brought to the mayor about it, there was no evidence at all that he had anything to do with Wendy's death and why would he? What would push Gold into an act so atrocious against a woman he had no history with? Peter couldn't answer that either, but he would find out. Even if the means damned his soul just a little bit more every day. He'd suggested it thinking Gold would be so off-put or disgusted that he would admit his wrongs, amend them and make Peter promise to never be seen near his shop again. But instead he had agreed and now Peter was in an awkward position. You don't break deals with Mr. Gold after all.

"How much longer?" he asked.

Mr. Gold looked up again, looking puzzled that Peter was still in the shop, but Peter knew it was an act. Gold often treated people like a nuisance rather than anything else. He was giving the other his full attention now though.

"Soon, I imagine, things are changing here after all," he replied vaguely. Peter could feel his temper rising and Mr. Gold narrowed his eyes. "Let's not start this again; I'll use the gun rather than the cane this time."

Peter swallowed his anger…for now. "What time then?"

"Same as last week."

* * *

Emma felt as if the air was only now returning to her at a regular pace. Today had been trying, to put it lightly. Regina called her to take care of twins caught shop lifting and when Emma learned they were homeless and parentless her heart had gone out to them. They reminded her so much of herself and she would not…_could_ not let them go into the system as Regina wanted. It was painfully clear they needed each other, even without them saying it. Of course, it wasn't so easy as just calling up their father, who Henry assured her was in the town, because when she found him he didn't want to take them. Emma had been desperate when she pulled the car over and called for Michael, hoping that if he just saw Ava and Nicholas he would love them. And he did, Emma's heart soared when Michael agreed to take his children, to raise them as best he could and provide them a loving home. But it wasn't the only heartache she suffered.

For one, Ava and Nicholas reminded her once again of the fact that she still didn't know her parents, that they seemed to have done everything they could to avoid being found and it troubled her. She was twenty eight and was no closer to finding them as she was when she started. And then there was Henry, Henry getting curious about his own father and how could Emma tell him the truth? Talking about Neal would hurt, would crack the sturdy defensive walls she built and she wanted Henry to believe his father was a hero, not a thief, not someone willing to let her go to prison for a crime she didn't even commit…unless loving Neal was a crime, which it turned out may have been true. She couldn't sleep, her joy at Ava and Nicholas's safety battling her sorrow over her own lost family made it impossible to relax so she snuck quietly from the apartment to go for a walk through town.

She wasn't walking long when she saw a familiar face. "Oh you've got to be kidding me," she muttered as the person in question lifted his hand to give her a wave.

Peter McGurn looked a little worse for wear but he was covering whatever troubled him swiftly enough as they neared each other. Emma crossed her arms, pausing in front of him, smiling lightly despite herself. "You can't sleep either?"

"You know despite the lack of a night life in this town, not everyone goes to bed before ten o'clock, love," Peter countered. "Though, your question leads me to believe that you're having trouble shutting down that mind of yours. What's troubling you?"

"Ohh that is not open for discussion," Emma laughed. "Besides it's nothing simple…in fact, it's nothing at all so there's nothing to discuss."

Peter lofted a brow in question, clearly not convinced. "I think you're under the impression that you're hard to read, the whole tough attitude, might be off putting to some, I find it quite invigorating myself. You're a bit of an open book, love, hate to break it to you."

"Am I?" she hid the curiosity in her tone.

"You are," Peter answered, sounding amused. "But it's all right, I won't spoil the surprise of how much I already know about you already, but, if I were to guess I'm sure I'd be right on. Let's figure it out over a drink sometime."

"You're pretty confident that I'll even agree to having that drink," Emma pointed out.

"Oh you'll agree," Peter replied. "Because now you're wondering if I _am_ right and if I am how much I did surmise without even one word from you. So yes, soon as I ask to collect on the offer you'll agree."

Emma hated that he was right but she wouldn't let it show. "Collect? Now this is starting to sound like one of Mr. Gold's deals." She got him on that one, his cheerful demeanor changed to one far darker and Emma decided she did not like that expression one bit. It promised danger. "But sure, you're right, I'll go get a drink with you sometime," she added quickly. It solved the problem, he brightened up again. "Where are you coming from anyway? And don't say the docks, you use that excuse far too much."

Peter considered her for a moment. "Settling a deal," he finally replied and that danger still colored his tone, it suggested that she would put herself at risk if she dared to ask for more details. As curious as she was, Emma didn't know Peter well enough to take that risk and though she was armed and more than confident in her abilities, she didn't want needless violence if it could be avoided. "Shall I walk you home?" he asked.

She saw how tired he looked, hidden under the mischievous visage and she smiled. "I'm coming from home, so no, I don't want to be led back there quite yet. You look exhausted, Peter, you should be the one going home."

Peter smirked. "Good night, Sheriff."

He continued onward, passing by her and Emma frowned. Maybe they weren't on a first name basis then, or maybe comparing him to Mr. Gold had offended him more than she initially figured. She wasn't sure, but it bothered her that he went back to her title. _Get a damn grip on yourself_ she thought savagely before storming off down the street. One thing was for certain, she wasn't going to be sleeping at all tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Pertaining to the question about Gold and Peter, the mystery will be revealed…well, this chapter. That's right, I want to incorporate as much as the original storyline without being redundant in this story but now is as good a time as any to get to Peter's history (at least a broad version of it). Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"If you go now I can't guarantee you'll be protected, Hook."

The pirate captain glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised and his face a perfect mask of indifference as he beheld his ally. Cora was powerful, his best chance to getting to the world without magic, to where the Crocodile waited to be skinned but he did not trust her. She had never really given him reason to and that was one thing he liked about Cora, she was upfront with him, as much as she could be. Hook had learned quickly that the woman could weave lies in a single heartbeat but then again why not? She had removed her own heart, emotions never got in her way. He recalled asking her why she went so far and she had merely smiled at him and refused to answer, he hadn't bothered asking again for he knew his alliance with her was temporary. Once they reached this new world, they had their own agendas. Cora would seek her daughter and Hook would seek his crocodile.

"Maybe the queen got cold feet," he sneered.

Cora's eyes narrowed imperceptibly and the smile that lifted her lips was anything but amused. He shrugged. Not much mattered to Hook except his revenge. "I'll be back well before it is time, there is something I must do, it'd be bad form to ignore it," he continued lightly.

"Do what you will, Hook, but I won't wait for you if you're late. You miss the chance for the protection I'm willing to give you then that is your own fault."

Not a strong bond indeed. Hook grinned and took off for his ship. He could navigate these waters faster than anyone and he had to go back, back to where she had been laid to rest. His dear Milah, the love of his life…murdered by a coward who could not bear to see her so vibrant in her new life. He may have hid behind the excuse of his boy but the captain knew better. He'd been jealous that he lacked appeal as a man, that he was nothing but scum, fit to crawl about and not much more. Hook's heart ached for Milah still, after all the eons had passed from her death she was still so close to his heart. He could have suffered the loss of his hand had Rumplestiltskin spared his dear heart, but no, he had gone beyond the call of what was necessary and he would pay for his crimes.

* * *

"Hey Peter!"

Peter looked up to see the mayor's son trotting over to him. He grinned. "Hey Henry," he replied, patting the empty seat next to him at the counter of Granny's. Henry slipped into the seat. Peter liked Henry; he was an interesting kid, far more perceptive than most in the town. Peter did not believe him about his stories, not fully in any case, but the idea that there was a curse suited him just fine. It might explain why he couldn't recall the full memories of the night Wendy died no matter how hard he concentrated. He refused to go see Archie, there was something he didn't like too much about the man and he would never admit he needed that sort of help, but it was strange that he couldn't remember and if Henry was right then at least he'd have some sort of explanation.

"Don't you have school?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I'm waiting for Emma."

"Ah, yes, now I can't call you the town's Lost Boy since she's showed up," Peter teased. "You look a bit…studious this morning; you have a test today or something?"

"No, it's not that. Have you seen the stranger who came to town recently?" Henry asked. "With the motorcycle? No? Well, he was outside my house this morning, I think he's up to something but I can't figure out what. He's the first stranger to come into town on his own and I think," here he paused to lean in closer, two conspirators in an empty diner. "I think it's because Emma is changing things."

Peter contained a laugh and shrugged. "You might just be right."

The walkie talkie at Henry's side crackled to life and Emma's voice came through, telling Henry she was going to be late because the mayor stopped her and that he better get on to school so he didn't get in trouble. Henry was on his feet quickly enough and Peter pressed some cash to the counter before he stood as well. "Have a good one, kid," he said.

"Bye, Peter!" Henry exclaimed, dashing out of the diner.

Peter slung his coat over his shoulders and stepped outside as well.

* * *

The _Jolly Roger_ rocked gently on the waves as Hook stood at her starboard side, overlooking the ocean. Here was where he'd buried Milah at sea, the only place she really felt at home. When she had first walked into that bar all those years ago, Hook had seen a desperate woman, an easy mark, and yet when he invited her to join him and they began to really talk, he realized that she was so much more than that. He was as taken with her as she was with him. She had not seen much of the world, but her thirst for adventure was something he could relate to, and the way her eyes lit up and she hung to every word of his stories told him this was not a woman going along with whatever was said for some company later on. He asked her why she never left and she explained with bitterness her situation. Lashed to the village coward, remaining with him only for her son but even that was growing difficult. It was nothing against her boy, Balefire, for she truly loved him but she worried that her misery would eventually infect her son like a disease and she wanted to escape, to give him his best chance. Maybe if she left Rumplestiltskin would find the courage she so desperately sought in him.

Her harsh words against her husband might have deterred another man, but Hook did not see a woman who could never be satisfied, just a woman who had been dealt a great injustice when her husband ran from the war, staining the family name completely. By the time Rumplestiltskin came to collect her, Hook had already decided to take Milah as his own and seeing him in person only solidified this decision. He wrinkled his nose when Baelfire was revealed and scoffed at the spinner's poor tale. He may have told his son to wait outside, but he must have known he'd come in, must have known it was the only way he could get his wife to leave.

The following morning Hook barely had to wait long before she came to the ship. He grinned, offering her his hand and their fingers laced together for the first time. Hook pulled her close, ignoring the presence of his crew as his brought his lips close to hers, eyes half-lidded and yet intense upon her own.

"Are you sure you want to come with me, darling?" he whispered, his voice soft and sensual.

"Yes," Milah replied. "Take me with you; take me away from this life, from my misery."

In response he pressed his lips against hers and was filled with love for her. He'd had many women in his time, but none elicited such a response in him. Rumplestiltskin's presence did not surprise him, but his disgust for the man deepened when he would not pick up the sword and fight for his own wife. No, he did not deserve Milah.

"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants…deserves what he gets."

He never expected to see the coward again.

* * *

Peter felt his phone ringing and pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the caller. He flipped it open and held it to his ear. "What?" he asked.

"Tonight," was Gold's simple reply.

"Again?"

"The deal was my discretion, was it not? Tonight."

He disconnected the call and Peter was very tempted to throw the phone to the ground and stomp on it for good measure. He heaved a sigh and decided that he needed a walk to cool his head before he struck the nearest person. He ended up leaving the main town behind, towards the estates. Gold's house was near these parts but he went the opposite direction, deciding to avoid it. He came upon a grand mansion, fashioned to appear much like a hotel. He knew that it was the home of a man named Jefferson, but he hardly knew him. Saw him once…maybe twice in all these years and never exchanged a word with him. Rumor had it that the man was completely mad. He was just about to continue onward when a pair of scissors suddenly crashed through one of the windows and an angry "make it work!" was shouted from the room within. Peter lofted a brow as a face appeared in the window.

It was twisted in anger until bright eyes took in Peter's presence and it was unsettling how quickly the emotion was wiped from that face. Peter smirked. "I suppose you needed those," he said, indicating the scissors. "It's such a hassle to lose one's temper when it increases work. Now you've got to come all the way down here and retrieve them."

Jefferson's face hardly changed as he studied Peter for a bit. "Ah, yes, I thought I remembered you, you were in Wonderland once." He sighed. "You might as well bring the scissors up, captain, you'll be too curious not to now."

Peter blinked. Wonderland?As in the story? The title was not so odd, he was the captain of his small shipping boat, but the way Jefferson spoke to him, with a certain touch of familiarity as if they'd met before. Dammit, he was right, now he was curious. He shrugged. "A clever trick," he replied. "One I regret to say has me hooked."

Jefferson suddenly laughed a short burst before he disappeared from view and Peter was unsure what he'd said that struck the other as so funny. He grumbled to himself and snatched the scissors from the ground as if they'd personally insulted him and let himself into the manor. Jefferson had come down to the ground level to greet him, all humor dissipated from his visage as he led Peter into a sitting room. He held his hand out and Peter gave him the scissors which were placed carelessly on a coffee table before Jefferson sat. He was a well-dressed man, looking both as if he totally belonged in his house and yet his eyes made him appear trapped, as if he belonged far away.

"Wonderland, huh?" Peter prompted.

"Yes, Wonderland. You went there, but you don't remember. You went to assassinate the Queen of Hearts; the whole realm was abuzz with it, so much so that the news even reached me."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. "Oh yes, I'm sure I did," he cooed.

"You did. But you didn't succeed you know, it's a trivial attempt, trying to kill her but you did lead her out of Wonderland. I suppose I should thank you for that…_off with his head_," this last statement was issued as no more than a harsh whisper and Jefferson's eyes were lit with fury.

"You are mad, aren't you?"

"Mad? Oh, we're all mad here. I am mad from remembering, you are mad from not remembering."

Peter thought that a curious thing to say, hadn't he just been thinking about how he couldn't remember his own wife's passing? Jefferson was looking at him and nodding slowly. "Not remembering, not your true self, not the things that matter. You should count yourself lucky that you don't. It's awful, knowing I mean."

"Remembering my true self, huh. And who was I when I went to kill the queen?" Peter asked, thoroughly amused by all of this.

"Captain Hook of course," Jefferson replied confidently. He pointed to the fake hand attached to Peter's wrist. "No hook here though."

Peter shook his head. "This was from a boating accident, the very same that took Wendy."

Jefferson smirked in triumph. "Ah, yes and weren't you so sure that Mr. Gold had something to do with that? But you had no proof. Dr. Whale said it was amnesia from the accident but the boat was Gold's, you said he rigged it but it's all hazy isn't it? Like you're grasping for straws? Simple, you are. Wendy did not die in a boating accident."

Peter's amusement was quickly fading and he stood. "No? And what do you know of it?" he snapped.

"Nothing, I'm afraid. We never met face-to-face in Wonderland after all. All I know is that your Wendy was never in Storybrooke to begin with, because she died in our world. It's why you couldn't get any evidence that Gold set you up, you know, it's a false memory altogether. Would you care for tea?"

"No, I would not. I recommend you cease rambling about my wife, Jefferson, or I'll have your head."

"_Off with his head_."

Peter rolled his eyes. He should not let this upset him, Jefferson was a madman, he had heard the accusations Peter made against Gold and had weaved them into his warped reality. Captain Hook, hardly! If Peter had a hook at his disposal and a whole crew he would have turned his life around here already.

* * *

The curse hit before Hook could make it back to Cora, but he found he didn't mind as he watched those black clouds coming closer and closer. He had to come here, if he hadn't he might have never had a chance to say good bye to Milah before he was swept up completely by revenge. "I'll remember," he growled. "I'll remember what I must do, my love." Kill the crocodile, kill Rumplestiltskin.

* * *

Peter reached Mr. Gold's house at the usual time. His blood was running cold. He hated this, hated all of it. When the boat had gone down, Peter accused Gold of sabotaging the vessel and it had led to Wendy's death and the loss of his hand. When he got out of the hospital a few weeks later, he went so far as to get the mayor and the DA involved, but when no proof was found, he had nothing. He had gone to the Pawn Shop and smashed the glass cases, tipped over the books and made as much of a mess as he could before Sheriff Graham took him in. He spent the night in jail before he was released by none other than Gold himself. The man would have payment for the damage done to his shop, but Peter had no extra money to give him. So he'd made a proposal, because he knew Mr. Gold was hiding something, showing hatred towards him unlike any other in town, of course the boat he loaned would be tampered with, he should have seen it coming, so he offered the service of his own body in payment with the promise that Mr. Gold would tell him the truth. He thought Mr. Gold would be repulsed, would deny the deal and simply tell him so he would never have to deal with Peter again, instead he'd accepted and the fact that he had accepted told Peter one thing; there was more to the accident.

He didn't know what Gold was getting out of the deal. Sure every man had their needs and it was true everyone else in town would be too frightened to get anywhere near him outside of town business, but Peter couldn't help but feel that this was just another way Mr. Gold was trying to bring him down, break him to little pieces and he was loathed to admit it…but it was working. Every time he left Gold's house he felt a little more hollow inside, a little more disgusted with himself and a little more like he was betraying Wendy entirely.

It was a simple affair. Peter stepped into the bedroom as always. Clothes were removed and they went to the bed. Peter was never allowed to touch, not that he wanted to, and he was never allowed to take the other man. He did as was requested and it had been done so often now it was almost routine. The room would be quiet save for the sound of skin sliding again skin and an occasional moan from either one of them but there was never passion, never tenderness and for that Peter was almost grateful. It let him hold on to the deal, that when Gold was satisfied he'd humiliated Peter enough to pay back for the damages to his shop he would end this part of the bargain and tell him about Wendy. For that answer, Peter could subject himself to this utter disappointment, this weakness of character because there was no other way.

Tonight, as Gold loomed over him once again, as his familiar girth filled him and their breathing became harsh Peter found he was distracted and not by the usual image of Wendy, but of Emma. Her smile, her wry expression when he teased her, her quick retorts…she was changing things. Would she be able to change his fate? This could not be all there was to the world. Passionless carnality, a fading dream of a woman unjustly taken before her time, the feeling of being cursed. This could not be all there was.


End file.
